If the passage into Diamond Valley was difficult, then the reverse trek was worse. A blistering storm commenced when we reached the Inner Gate. Even with our enchanted gear, Ysac and I couldn't stop our teeth from clattering and our fingertips from freezing.

We wore hats and gloves and scarves—supplied by Astrida in her desperation for affection, according to Ysac—but a glacial grimness plagued the entire area and rendered our journey nearly impossible. Even the clubbers, who'd been so unaffected by the weather until now, seemed to struggle more than usual.

But Ysac refused to quit, when I told him we should turn back and wait the storm out at the castle.

"Our mission is too important," he said through clenched teeth and a shivering jaw. "We're not on a set schedule, but we aren't supposed to dawdle. Going back to Astrida's comforts..." He peered over his shoulder at the castle, though we couldn't see it through the stinging fog. "We'll delay for too long and be too off course."

The main town was somehow deader than before, and the mist was so thick we could only rely on the clubbers to get us through safely. According to Ysac, these clubbers had quite the sense of direction. When one whispered a destination into the floppy ears of a clubber, it wouldn't rest until you got there in one piece.

My sense of direction? Shabby, at best. To me, every snow-covered tree looked alike, every path resembled the one before it. I was certain we rode in circles until we spotted the steep swaying bridge, and all my anxieties from the day before returned to plague me. From afar, I noticed the shiny surface of the bridge was slick with ice, and I dreaded having to pass over it.

But despite the frigid atmosphere, the dangerous descent, the exhaustion—Ysac remained calm. He shook like I did, yet his enthusiasm and positivity never dissipated. He hummed merry tunes as we traveled, pointed out things he remembered seeing on the road up, offered tidbits of natural knowledge I never expected he'd have. Were jesters all so smart in Efura? Were they all so educated, well-spoken, informed of current affairs, running about on errands given to them by powerful mages?

Ysac's posture never faltered; meanwhile I battled to stay upright and prevent my legs from falling off. Me, a prince, a future king, unable to hold his own in a temperature that I wasn't familiar with. What sort of image was I showing?

I leaned into my clubber, desperate to steal its warmth—and oh, it was warm. Almost hot to the touch, undisturbed by the surrounding frost as we humans were.

"H-how?" I asked, pointing at my clubber as we arrived at the conclusion of the bridge. "They...aren't...cold?"

Ysac's cute chuckle sent heat to my cheeks—but it was too brief. "Clubbers adjust to their environment." Though his plump lips were almost as purple as his eyes, his speech didn't slur like mine. I'd shoved my scarf over my mouth and sensed my nose throbbing, then numbing, then throbbing again. But his skin never changed colors, and nothing seemed to faze him. "No matter the temperature or the weather, their bodies shift to match it. Once we leave this area, they'll change again."

And he was right, though at this point I didn't doubt him. A few paces past the bridge, the clubbers' fur became silky smooth and lightweight again, no longer emitting heat. To my relief, there was no snow on this side, and our coats deflated to allow our bodies to breathe. The haze remained, but it was tolerable, and I lowered my scarf to sniff in the woodsy aroma.

We swerved down the winding paths from yesterday. I had no nausea or dizziness this time when the clubbers picked up speed and slipped down the slopes. I took my hat off and let the breeze brush through my messy tresses, smiling as we galloped.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Ysac glancing my way; then he retracted his gaze almost at once, a faint flush flowing up to his upper cheek-bones. Of course, my own flesh inflamed at the idea of him stealing glances at me, so I prompted my clubber to go faster, to keep some distance between us.

At the bottom of the mountain, we traversed Knave Valley once more, and took a sharp turn before arriving at the meadows around Acewood Castle. I saw the castle in the distance; a big, faded black group of buildings clustered together and pointed towards the skies. We weren't headed that way, clearly; Ysac steered us even more to the right, on to a seemingly seldom-used passage that lined the forest.

"Club Fields is north-west of Acewood," he explained, taking the lead again.

"Club Fields," I repeated, remembering that the territory once belonged to the elusive and elegant Sir Sym. "That's a strange name, isn't it?"

Ysac shrugged as he unfastened his cloak's strings and shook off the droplets of snow that had caked onto the fabric. He kept his hat on, but let it tip backwards, revealing his prominent forehead. "I don't think so."

I wanted to scoff at him, because of course he disagreed—all the things about this world that I found odd were normal to him.

"It used to be a vast field of vegetables and fruits and flowers," he continued, focused on the thick forest to our left as we proceeded onward. "Our main produce in those days was the club."

"Club?" I envisioned the upside-down heart-shaped symbol on my playing cards; the one that coincidentally represented Sir Sym. "Any relation to your beloved clubbers?"

"Not at all." He smiled warmly at me, and if I'd been cold, still, he'd have melted all the ice with that one gesture. "Clubs are a vegetable we once had in abundance. A cross between a potato and a yam; very much like a sweet potato, but with a slight citrus tint to it. An odd combination, I'll admit, but the way its flavor flutters over one's tongue, and its tartness...magnificent. Pairs well with buffalo." He closed his eyes, and I could tell his mouth watered. "But it's so rare now that it's considered a delicacy."

The manner in which he spoke of this club made my mouth water, too—from imagining the taste or from how the words whizzed past his enticing lips, I wasn't sure.

I tugged my jaw up before I drooled all over my collar. "Delightful. Do you think I'll get a chance to try one?" I almost added, before I leave this place, but worried it'd sound rude.

He flashed me a mischievous grin. "Perhaps. If Gwenore is in a decent enough mood, she might share some from her stores. She hoards clubs in heaps, from what I heard. Most of her inhabitants don't even know they exist anymore."

I wasn't sure how to feel about a queen keeping such essential resources to herself. I fidgeted atop my clubber as we trudged up a dirt hill so high and wide I had no notion what was on the other side.

"You say her name like you know her well." I squinted towards the top, straining though the clubber obviously had no trouble climbing. "And you seemed acquainted with Queen Astrida, too. Why?"

He flinched, and something cold spread in the air between us. "I served them, while their father was alive. And before they left the castle. They used to live there, remember? I'm sure I told you that."

"You did, but...I discern that there's more to these relationships than you being their entertainer. Isn't there? I'm no expert, but you were quite comfortable around Queen Astrida and knew her home...well."

He winced. Oh dear, I made him uncomfortable, didn't I? I never meant to push; it was pure curiosity, not meant to be an interrogation.

I fumbled for apologies. "I'm sorry, I don't wish to pry, but...you're dragging me around your continent, and I'm clueless to it all. Surely you understand my confusion? My questions?"

He clutched the reins tighter as he twisted to me. The coat clung to his figure, making him appear snug and cozy, though he frowned. "True," he cleared his throat, "but telling you too much too soon would overwhelm you. And it's all a bit difficult to detail."

I nodded, then sealed my lips shut. If he believed it was better to trickle the information to me as we moved along, then I trusted him. I had to trust him—as long as we were on this mission together, we were tethered.

Atop the hill, we stopped. I gaped in awe at the scenery ahead of us. Way off in the distance, I noted square buildings stacked below hilltops encircled by brown patches. A dark building loomed even farther away, cloaked in mist. Leading up to the area were fields of green, fading to orange, then yellow, then melting into the brown spots nearest the populated region. Trees dotted the landscape here and there, but were sparse and bony, with scrawny branches reaching up to the graying sky. Closer to us, and to the right, was what looked like a small, bustling town, but from the way Ysac was poised to continue onward, I could tell we weren't going there.

"Ah," I said, as we advanced down the slope, dirt dusting over our clubber's hooves. "I understand the dilapidated part now." I gestured in the direction where we appeared to be headed. "That brown area—dead crops?"

Ysac honed in on the path before us, but a pinch of despair deepened his voice. "Indeed. Club Fields used to be so prosperous, but as I told you earlier, Sir Sym's powers can no longer extend that far. He has to concentrate his abilities in Acewood, and Queen Gwenore...well, she has no powers, and she refuses to let him visit to restore the soil's fertility."

"Shame." I smacked a hovering fly away from my mouth. "Why does she refuse?"

Ysac's arms visibly tensed. "Because she dislikes mages. Though her father trusted in them, she never quite appreciated Sirs Sym and Otho, Lady Ossenna, and Arden. She doubted the truth of their abilities, of their intentions. And when she took over Club Fields, even while her father was alive, she chose to keep his advisors far from her."

Ah, so I wasn't the only one who questioned magic, then. Maybe I'd get along splendidly with this Queen Gwenore.

"Do these mages all have the same abilities?" If I was to learn to trust these people—or pretend to—I needed to find out more about what sort of magic they employed.

A dry fog dropped over us as our trail led us between two massive fields of verdant crops.

Ysac extracted a leather pouch from a pocket inside his cloak. He opened it, and a silvery powder blew out in front of us. It instantly cleared some of the blurriness, allowing us a better view of our path.

He spotted my mouth gaping open at what he did, so he chuckled. "Anti-fog powder, from Lady Ossenna. She has dominion over weather and atmosphere, and warned me we'd encounter a lot of haziness during our voyage. And here in Club Fields, low clouds can be...toxic. Sometimes they're smoky enough to clog one's lungs. Best not to inhale too much of this stuff," he pulled up his scarf, and motioned for me to do the same, "else you might hallucinate."

Hallucinogenic fog—as if we hadn't had enough magical dreariness up in Diamond Valley.

I did as he asked, but not without rolling my eyes.

He paid my insolence no heed, and resumed his explanations, his tone muffled beneath the neck cloth. "As you might have guessed, Sir Sym is a mage of reproduction and fertility, for plants and animals. Our southernmost continents don't require his attention as much, but Club Fields and Diamond Valley are difficult to cultivate due to their climate. Astrida permits him to go as far as the end of the Valley Bridge, but Gwenore...she won't let him past the hills we just crossed."

I sneered, recalling my earlier thoughts about her hoarding of clubs. We agreed on magic, but not on how to govern, it seemed. "And don't her people hate her for it?"

Ysac released the reins for a moment to adjust his hat. A few loose canary-colored curls broke free and tumbled down his cheeks. "No. She offers them lower taxes and the cheapest rents in the realm. She ensures importation of goods; her marketplaces are always loaded with all sorts of products. She's a good queen, though I've failed to portray her as such." His eyes softened as he peered at me. "She's complicated."

As is everything in this world.

I reserved my judgment for now. "So, what about the other two mages?"

He concentrated on the upcoming pastures of gold and wheat. "Sir Otho oversees prosperity, happiness, and self-care. He handles feelings and feedback from the population, while spreading love and tranquility wherever he goes. He actually has a small army of nymphs who pose as humans, and ensure everyone is joyful and pleased, and report any difficulties to him. It's not always a successful method, of course. No kingdom is ever fully at peace."

Otho was the one with the heart symbol—his magical role made sense to me, compared to the others.

"No one is perfect, naturally. And...Arden? What do they represent?"

"Arden's role varies. They tend to gravitate towards dimensional and divine arts, but they dabble in much more. They prevent catastrophes, try to avert wars, and watch for exterior threats. Once, they advised the captain of our army, but...as of late, their abilities are a tad frazzled. And our captain is out of commission."

"Out of commission?" I gulped. "Frazzled?" This was the first I'd heard about a captain. And Arden's demeanor puzzled me. They were a gender-neutral being swathed in secrecy who knew more than they claimed. They'd known I wasn't from Efura, almost within seconds of meeting me. Why?

"Out of commission as in ill. And Arden is...off their game, I suppose. Our world is a little unbalanced right now." Ysac's foot grazed mine as his clubber hobbled sideways to avoid a big rock in the ground. "I can tell Arden unsettled you most. They do that; mages in general intimidate those unused to magic, but Arden's complicated presentation is even more intimidating. They're used to it."

The mist thickened again, and he blasted out another handful of the silvery powder. Beyond the haze, I sighted copper crops and dry, muddy fields.

"Yes...but what I don't understand is..." I swallowed and squinted, my eyes watery from the mist. "Why do the mages rule Acewood Kingdom? And why did these queens take up their territories?"

"A disagreement," said Ysac, stiffening, his clubber distancing itself from mine. "The king had already sent his daughters away because of...well, a smidgen of paranoia, I think. Then later, all four queens were under the impression their father had come to them separately and promised them the throne, days before he died. But...that's impossible. He chose only one of his daughters. Only one queen had that discussion with the king. I assume it's Gwenore, as she's the eldest of the four. But there's much debate, which is why the mages agreed to keep them separated until they were finished investigating."

"Investigating?" My sit bones hurt from being in the same position for too long, and my thighs were still sore from our riding the day before. "They're summoning the queens home, so that's over, right? What was their conclusion? Three of the queens are lying?"

With a sigh, Ysac slowed his clubber by tugging on the leather strap. "Well...no. Three of them were duped. Tricked. I think it's the same person who egged on Jack, and coerced him into organizing a deadly rebellion in Acewood a few years ago, brought on by some of the king's actions. A rebellion that frightened the queens—then princesses—and troubled the Aces. And it's that rebellion that got Knave Jack's three brothers killed. We have no idea who that instigator is."

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